


of fractures filled with gold

by xiuchenlay



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, M/M, Mild Smut, Post-War, They’re In Love Okay, brief mentions of human experimentation, kinda dark but also soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25079980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiuchenlay/pseuds/xiuchenlay
Summary: The war has taken many things from Minseok, but he would die before he let it have Jongdae too.
Relationships: Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Minseok | Xiumin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50
Collections: Challenge #4 — Into the Future





	of fractures filled with gold

**Author's Note:**

> This was truly a joy to write and a huge challenge of course. I wondered if I could truly write something substantial in such few words and I’d like to think I managed to pull it off?  
> Thank you to the mods for running such a great fest~
> 
>  **warnings** : this fic involves some sensitive subjects such as human experimentation and ptsd, while not written in great detail, please do keep this mind.  
> Hope you enjoy :)

Sometimes, on rainy days, Minseok almost believes he’s back in his old apartment—the one he lived in before The Uprising. The pitter pattering of rain on the window in his bedroom sounds the same, as does the accompanying rumble of thunder. When he’s just on the verge of waking up, it’s frighteningly easy to imagine himself in his old bed, buried beneath his soft cotton sheets. They were a housewarming gift from his parents when he moved out at Twenty-five. 

Life was much simpler then. He was just a young man living on his own for the first time in a brand new city. Everything was so new, and frighteningly so.

He barely had time to settle in before The Uprising began and nothing was ever the same. 

Drafted to serve in the war between his home planet and an invading Alien race, he was loaded onto a hovership with hundreds of other recruits by the end of the month. He never did return to his apartment, the city it resided in having been decimated not long after. Nothing is left of his soft cotton sheets but ash and dust, eventually swept away by wind over time. 

Still, he can practically _feel_ the way they would bunch up beneath his toes when he shifted, the way they were always as soft as his mother’s caress beneath his cheek, if he focuses hard enough. On the edge of sleep and consciousness, it’s all too easy to give in to the comfort of what was and what will never be again. 

He’ll never feel his mother’s touch, nor the firmness of his father’s hug again but, in the moment, he can pretend. He can pretend until the dream slips from his fingers and he’s blinking himself awake in a bedroom that isn’t his old one but is _his_ all the same. 

A bitterness lingers on the back of his tongue but it fades as the bed shifts and he’s being kissed, soft and wet and toe curling. 

“Morning.”

The slick sound of lips separating fills the quiet room and he’s suddenly being gazed at from beneath long curled lashes.

“Good morning Dae.” His voice comes out raspy from disuse but no less fond. 

Jongdae smiles and Minseok feels a knot he wasn’t previously aware of loosen in his chest.

“You were dreaming, weren’t you?” It isn’t a question. More of a statement that doesn’t garner an answer because they both know he was. 

Instead, Minseok dances metal fingers along Jongdae’s exposed arm just to watch goosebumps break out over pale skin. He continues up over the ball of Jongdae’s shoulder, dragging across the delicate jut of a collarbone, cool metal against sleep-warmed skin. He can’t feel the heat beneath the pads of his false fingers—his arm is one of the countless things the War stole from him—but he instinctively knows it's there. 

Just like he instinctively knows that Jongdae will bring his hand to his lips and kiss each of his fingertips, each of his creaky knuckles, kisses a soothing balm over an old ache. He can’t physically feel them but he can _feel_ the love, the unspoken devotion, and it's more than enough. It’s much too easy to allow it to fill his chest until all he can do is pull Jongdae into another heart stuttering kiss.

And another, and another. 

They all bleed together at one point, interspersed by gasps and wanton moans made louder by hands beneath loose sleep shorts and fingers slickened by oil. 

Minseok feels like he’s grown too large for his own skin, painting Jongdae’s inner thighs with white. He drags his hand through the mess and grasps at Jongdae’s still hard cock, grip made slick with filth. He listens to the tiny noises, to the _Minseok, please, oh my god._

Jongdae finally goes still, shuddering through an orgasm that renders him silent and Minseok is there to tongue into his mouth until he goes lax and pliant. 

Thunder rumbles once more, a ferocious clap that causes Minseok’s hair to stand on end. A flash of lightning follows. He feels Jongdae stiffen in his arms, hears his sharp intake of breath.

The Uprising...it stole from Jongdae too. 

Minseok sees the cracks left behind, sees the fear carved into his lover's soul, sees the pain carved into his skin. Jongdae’s past is told in the scars that litter his skin. Jongdae has taught Minseok how to read every single one. He had whispered the stories into Minseok’s ear one night, unable to look at Minseok while he did. 

The numerous round ones in the crook of each arm were born from the constant prick of needles that researchers dug into his skin while he thrashed. The ones that circle his wrists and ankles were from the unforgiving restraints that rendered him helpless. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Minseok reassures, kissing away the salty tears on Jongdae’s cheek. He attempts to soothe the tremors wracking Jongdae’s small frame. 

Sometimes, The Uprising tries to steal Jongdae back.

...As if it hadn’t stolen enough.

But Minseok is there to bring Jongdae to the present, to ground him to the moment. 

“You’re okay, you’re here with me,” He repeats, over and over until Jongdae’s sobs subside and he’s breathing in the scent of Minseok’s skin. 

“I’m here,” Jongdae whimpers into the crook of Minseok’s neck, fingernails digging crescents into his shoulders. 

“You’re here. You’re safe.”

Minseok kisses Jongdae’s hair and rocks him gently. 

They’re both safe, tucked into an apartment on the edge of a city born from the New Regime, curled beneath sheets that Jongdae bought from the market. This isn’t his old life but it’s his new one. 

And he'll be damned if he ever lets The Uprising steal anything from him ever again. 


End file.
